Even the Stars Sometimes Fall
by lielabell
Summary: Blaine is dreamy.  There is no escaping the fact.  Dreamy and charming and damn talented.  And it makes Jesse's teeth grind. Blaine/Jesse St. James
1. Part One

Part One

Blaine is dreamy. There is no escaping the fact. Dreamy and charming and damn talented. And it makes Jesse's teeth grind.

Which it shouldn't. It really shouldn't. Jesse is in college now. He's moved on. Way on. So far on that he... secretly still follows the high school show choir circuit and top-secretly hopes that Rachel and her band of talented misfits will... well. He isn't sure how that sentence ends. Sometimes it's "fail miserably and become complete laughing stock and even bigger losers than before." And sometimes it's "succeed against all odds because they are just so dang plucky and, honestly, deserve it so much." But, either way, his obsession does not involve the Warblers and their epically dreamy lead signer.

Except sort of it does. And... once again there go Jesse's teeth. Grinding away to little nubs of frustrated nothing.

Jesse isn't sure why Kurt is suddenly there, singing in eight-part harmony with the prettiest pretty boy who ever lived, but he thinks he can use it to his advantage. If he acts. Which he isn't sure he's going to do. Because... it's _so_ high school to have a - not a crush. Anything but that. An interest, rather, in someone just because they are dreamy and can sing better than, well, not than him. But other people. Most other people. He still has enough affection for one Rachel Berry that he would give her a slight advantage should she and the oh-so-charming Blaine face off voice-to-voice in a battle to the death over him.

Not that he ever thinks about such things. Or fantasizes about how he would comfort the loser.

Dear Lord, the things he would do. His hands and teeth and tongue would explore every inch of that tantalizingly smooth skin. And the sounds Blaine would produce... Jesse knows they would far surpass anything his rich, mellow voice has ever accomplished previously.

But, of course, theirs would be a doomed love. Two such talents could not endure a rival's presence for long: witness the tragic end to his and Rachel's love affair. Still, Jesse is sure it would be worth it. Worth the pain and humiliation, the condescending smiles and pitying looks poor, rejected Blaine would receive. And worth the all the rolling eyes and expressive sighs aimed his way as well.

If only there was some way for them to meet. Some chance encounter that didn't involve Jesse's strange, sick obsession becoming public knowledge. Some magical, wonderful way.

Perhaps at a local coffee shop on a picturesque rainy day. Blaine, in his schoolboy uniform, forlorn as he gazes out caught without raincoat or umbrella. And Jesse, consummate older man, ever-so willing to share his on the short walk to his car. Then the ride home, singing softly along with what happens to be the radio (Frank Sinatra's "Strangers in the Night" would do just fine) and from there... history.

Or maybe a casual stroll down the lanes of his favorite sheet music shop would end with him winning his man. There Blaine would be, standing in front of the very section he was aiming for, dressed this time is a pair of dark, tight jeans and a loose cable knit sweater. Hunter green, with a hint of gold woven into the thread. They would reach for the same book at the same time and laugh as their hands bumped. An impromptu concert would, naturally, follow.

No. Wait. Too close to the carefully calculated "chance meeting" between him and Rachel. This meeting can bare nothing in common with that one. Not with Kurt glued so close to his dear one's side.

Ah well, Jesse is blessed with a quick and able brain. He will find some other way to make his perfect entrance. After all, fate can't be left entirely to its own devices. And meet they must.

Because Blaine is dreamy. And Jesse refuses to be doomed to dream in the shadows - no matter how his teeth may grind.

* * *

"Oh lord," Kurt says under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut dramatically.

"What?" Blaine sips on his drink and waits patiently.

"Don't look," Kurt prefaces, "but Jesse St. James is staring at you."

Blaine shrugs. "Who?"

"Jesse St. James. He's a well known rake and a cad."

"And he's looking at me?" Blaine's eyebrows raise and he swivels in his chair, searching for someone who Kurt would categorize as a rake.

Kurt lets out a put-upon sigh. "I said not to look. But since you decided to ignore my excellent advice, he's the one with the tousled curls and too much leather, leaning against the wall like he owns it."

This time Blaine spots him. He lets out a soft whistle. "A rake and a cad?"

"He broke Rachel's heart." Kurt examines his nails. "And ruined our chances at winning Regionals last year. No doubt he's up to his same tricks."

"Jesse St. James." The name rings a bell. "From Vocal Adrenaline, right?"

Kurt frowns. "Uh huh. Nasty little automatons."

"I saw them when they took Nationals. Really, really clean performers. A little lacking in soul, though."

"That's putting it mildly." Kurt spears a grape tomato viciously, then looks up and gasps. "He's coming our way," he hisses.

Blaine glances over his shoulder and confirms that, yes, Jesse St. James is coming their way. In the most ostentatious manner possible. He smiles to himself and returns back to his food.

"Kurt Hummel. I thought that was you. Change of look, I see. Very nice." Jesse St. James flashes a smile and tosses his perfectly tousled hair. "And who is your dashing young friend?"

Kurt nods acknowledgement and sniffs, disgust clearly evident. Blaine takes him time swallowing his mouthful of fries while contemplating what to do next. It's clear that Kurt does not approve of anything Jesse-St.-James related, but it would be rude to ignore him after he walked so dramatically across the room and posed so perfectly before them.

Still, he takes a nonchalant sip of his coke before answering. "I'm Blaine," he says with a slight hand gesture. "And you are?"

Jesse St. James's eyes widen and Blaine can't help but wonder if he is shocked to find someone who doesn't recognize him. "I'm Jesse. Jesse St. James. Former lead male vocalist of Vocal Adrenaline. Current lead male vocalist of the Buckeye Belters. Future Broadway star."

Blaine lets out a little chuckle. "Very impressive."

"Be gone, egotist," Kurt says, his lip curling. "We'll have none of your shenanigans."

"Now Kurt, is that anyway to treat a friend and former teammate?" Jesse St. James asks as he pulls out a chair and straddles it. He rests his chin on his hands and gives them such a woeful look that Blaine can't help but laugh. "Amused at my plight?" Jesse St. James's eyebrows quirk up.

"Amused, yes. At your plight?" Blaine shakes his head. "More at the fact that someone as flamboyant as yourself isn't on friendly terms with Kurt here." He nudges Kurt's shoulder with his own and is happy to see Kurt's sunny response, though it quickly vanishes again when Kurt glances in Jesse St. James direction.

Kurt purposefully turns his head so that he can no longer see Jesse St. James and murmurs , "Unlike some people, we do not resort to petty ploys or wreck havoc to win our competitions."

"Ah. But then, you didn't win. Merely tied."

Kurt lets out an offended huff but Blaine shrugs. "Doesn't really matter, seeing as how we are moving on. And speaking of moving on." He tosses his napkin onto his plate and pushes back his chair. "After you."

With a glorious smile, Kurt pushes back as well. "Oh do go first," he demurs. "I'd follow you anywhere."

"Aren't you precious," Blaine replies, linking his arm with Kurt as they start off. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the famous Jesse St. James scowl and something deep inside of him smiles in response.

* * *

"Jesse St. James does not lurk in food courts." Kurt's voice is tense and his hands are twitchy. "He is most definitely up to something."

Blaine gives him a reassuring smile. "It look more like lazing to me."

Kurt is not reassured at all, not judging by the way his brow is furrowed. "I don't like the way he looked at you. Like you were some sort of iced confection."

"Iced confection?" Blaine rubs his neck. "Isn't that the way iyou/i look at me?" he teases.

"I... that is... oh," Kurt stammers, his cheeks turning a furious shade of red.

Blaine steps a tad bit closer and leans in until his lips almost brush the shell of Kurt's ear. "Because I wouldn't mind if you did."

Kurt lets out a sigh and twists towards him, eyes big and full of stars. "You wouldn't?"

Blaine shakes his head. "I thought you would have caught on by now," he says as he moves a fraction closer. "I have been laying on the charm pretty thick."

"You did a duet and everything," Kurt whispers, his eyes focused on Blaine's mouth.

"I did indeed," Blaine acknowledges. He lets his hands trail slowly up Kurt's arms and then come up to cup his face.

When Kurt's eyes flutter shut, he moves in, lips pressing gently against lips, hands tugging softly at hair, until Kurt lets out a contented moan. Blaine pulls back far enough to gaze soulfully into Kurt's eyes. After what happened with that closeted asshole, Blaine wants this to be perfect. Kurt's full lips curve up into a smile, his eyes practically twinkle and Blaine lets out then breath he didn't know he was holding.

"You don't need to worry about the way that Jesse St. James character was looking at me," he says. "You're the only boy I want."

"Oh." Kurt's eyes somehow manage to get even brighter and his smile gets that much wider.

"That's right." Blaine grins. "_Oh_."

* * *

Jesse closes his eyes and counts to ten. Then he opens them, takes a deep breath, and glances back down at the phone in his hand. The text on the screen stays the same. He grits his teeth and forces his hand to unclench.

"Back off indeed," he mutters. "Taken. Ha. No one is ever 'taken' where I am concerned. Or at least no one stays taken."

Jesse frowns and shakes his head. This isn't the way things were supposed to go. He was supposed to chance upon Blaine in some enchanting fashion. He was supposed to shimmer and smolder and draw Blaine to him with his magnetic charm. He was most definitely inot/i supposed to be caught mooning over him in food court of the local strip mall, a place he rarely frequented and then only at his mother's behest.

But that's what had happened.

Jesse had tried to make the most of it. He tried to pull off suave and nonchalant. But somehow it had all gone to hell. First Kurt had snubbed him. Then Blaine has smirked at him. Smirked. Like he knew exactly what Jesse was up to and wasn't having any of it. And then, horror, they had up and left him before he had any chance to redeem himself. And that wasn't the worst. The worst was that Jesse had trailed after them for a short ways like some sick, sad puppy and they _never once looked back_.

Which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing. What with the creepy stalkerish following that was going on.

But that was besides the point. Blaine was supposed to look back. They always looked back. Even when they really, really hated him, they looked back. Jesse lets out a devastated sigh. And now Kurt Hummel was texting him all sorts of vaguely threatening things. Which ought to make Jesse laugh because, please. Kurt Hummel? He couldn't hurt a kitten. But instead it was making him ache all funny inside. Because it was Kurt. And Kurt had always been... accepting of him in his strange, Kurt way.

Which just meant that everything in the world was all wrong, wrong, wrong. And Jesse doesn't have a clue how in the hell to fix it.

* * *

"So are you and Kurt dating now?"

Blaine jerks back and yanks his earbuds out. His volume level is barely loud enough to hear, just enough to mute out the background noise of the park, it shouldn't have been loud enough to cover the arrival of unexpected visitors.

"St. James."

"Blaine." A small smile graces Jesse St. James's lips.

Blaine closes his book and sets it on the bench next to him. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The smile vanishes for a moment, then blossoms again. "The unseasonably warm weather and my love of nature in general and this park in particular."

"Uh huh." Blaine crosses his arms over his chest and levels Jesse St. James with a knowing look.

"I'm not stalking you," Jesse St. James blurts out and then flushes like mad. "Oh god. My life, it is over."

Blaine shakes his head, smiling in spite of himself. "Not even a little? Now I'm hurt."

Jesse St. James's cheeks get even redder, and he blusters a bit about god only knows what. Blaine isn't listening. He's made it his life mission never to listen when people make fools of themselves and the policy has served him well. Instead he focuses on the way Jesse's curls bounce around his face and the blue, blue of his eyes.

"Okay, let's cut to the chase," he says when he's decide that they are some of the prettiest eyes he's ever seen.

"Pardon?" Jesse St. James narrows those pretty eyes at him.

Blaine just smiles. "We both know why you are here. And, while I'm very flattered, I'm not interested. Not in you or your amazing singing voice or your skills as a spy."

"You think I have an amazing singing voice?"

"It's a fact. No way to deny it. But, like I said, not particularly interested in it either." Blaine gives him a what-can-you-do smile. "So, yeah. I think that spells it out pretty clearly."

Jesse St. James looks like someone kicked him in the shins and then stole his shiny new toy. "But why?"

"You're not a nice person." Blaine lifts a shoulder. "And I kind of care about that."

"What." His eyes flash. "Who told you that? Who dared besmirch my honor?"

Blaine laughs so hard he thinks he's going to rupture something. "Oh god, how are you even real?"

"Who! I demand satisfaction."

"The Internet," Blaine answers between laughs. "You're fellow Vocal Adrenaline teammates. Everyone in New Directions. And some old lady I saw walking down the street."

Jesse St. James tosses his head and snorts. "All bitterly jealous of my numerous accomplishments, clearly."

His answer sobers Blaine like nothing else could. "You broke an egg on your ex-girlfriend's head. And, now, I know it was Rachel Berry and she's a trip and a half, but you broke an egg on her head. And only dated her because her mother asked you to seduce her or something. Which is beyond creepy, let me tell you, and, I'm sorry, but that speaks for itself."

A frown crinkles Jesse St. James's face. "It was a team-building event," he says coolly.

"Team-building," Blaine repeats. "Yes, well that changes everything. Oh, wait. No. It doesn't. You still dated her under false pretenses, tried to get her to sleep with you when you knew you didn't love her, and gave her a crazy complex. One that I have to deal with far too often, seeing as how my boyfriend is her ex-boyfriend's step-brother. And said ex-boyfriend is still ridiculously attached to someone he supposedly no longer loves. But whatever. Way off topic. Anyway, the point is what you did was wrong on so many levels. And yeah, totally pushes you onto Santa's 'naughty' list."

"Kurt's your boyfriend?"

"You do tend to latch onto the strangest things, don't you?" Blaine gives him a sad sort of look. "Well, as lovely as this chat has been, I must be going." He shoves his iPod into his pocket and picks up his book. "Is it terribly rude to say I'd rather not bump into you again?"

Jesse swallows and shakes his head mutely.

It takes less than five minutes for Jesse's fantasy about true-but-doomed-love to shrivel and die. In their place a deep, burning loathing forms. An emotion ten times more passionate and all consuming as his love ever hoped to be. Because if there is one thing Jesse St. James excels at, it's unending hate.


	2. Part Two

Part Two

Jesse doesn't decide to take part in the Eighteenth Annual Ohio State Voice Off in order to go head-to-head with Blaine, but he has to admit that it certainly is a massive perk. It's been four months, ten days, five hours and sixteen minutes since The Park Incident and the Sing Off To End All Sing Offs, as he's taken to calling it, will officially be the first time that they have interacted since that ill fated day. Jesse hasn't been avoiding him - it's kind of hard to do that when your mission in life is to crush someone's hopes and dreams and in order to crush them, you must first know them. And the "knowing them" part involves lots and lots of... It's not stalking. It's not.

Jesse takes a deep breath and centers himself.

The point is that they will be officially seeing each other. As in Blaine will be seeing him. Looking right at him. And singing. With his smooth, melodious voice. All filled with emotion while those deep, brown eyes stare right into his soul. And Jesse, he plans to stare right back. With his own baby blues doing what they do best: full on flint. Because nothing beats affable, awkward charm like rock-hard aggression.

* * *

"I still don't like the way he looks at you," Kurt hisses in Blaine's ear as they wait for the welcoming speech to finish.

Blaine shifts in his seat and glances at the corner of the room that Kurt's been shooting off death glares at. Sure enough, it's one Jesse St. James. "You don't like the way anyone looks at me, never mind you done went and broke my heart."

Kurt waves off his comment like he's shooing a fly. "Be serious."

"I am," Blaine protests, batting his eyes at him.

Kurt's lips thin. "He is plotting something. I can see it in his beady little eyes."

"You cannot." Blaine crosses his arms over his chest. "And he doesn't have beady little eyes, as you very well know. You and Rachel had a whole discussion about it last week."

"Yes, well, someone has to indulge her and her incessant need to compare her conquests or we all suffer." Kurt shivers. "Do I need to remind you of the-"

Blaine cuts him off with a raise of the hand. "No. You don't. Because it never happened."

"Exactly." Kurt preens as he settles back into his seat. "But that's not what we were talking about. We were talking about the infamous Jesse St. James and his thousand-mile stare."

"Just ignore him," Blaine says with a lift of the shoulder. "That's what I plan to do."

"But he's plotting!"

Blaine leans in close. "So let him. You and I are not plotting. Or sulking. Or sending angry vibes across a crowded room. Well, at least _I'm_ not sending angry vibes. And I don't plan on doing it either. Because, guess what, I don't care about Jesse St. James. At all. And I can pretty safely say that I never will."

Kurt sniffs and sends one last nasty-gram in Jesse St. James direction, then sinks back into his seat and crosses his hands over his knee. "So, song selection."

"Not again."

"But..."

"No."

Kurt's face crumples. "I just want to see you succeed at this and this tribute," he scowls and shakes his head.

"It's a tribute. And a test of my skill as a singer." Blaine scratches his cheek. "Which I've already told you a thousand times. Maybe my heart's not so broken after all."

"Heartless knave."

Blaine opens his mouth to reply, but is stopped by a loud sniff from directly over his shoulder. He looks up and is not really all that surprised to see the man of the hour.

"Speaking of knaves," Kurt says with decided frost, his posture instantly going from relaxed to ridged. "And liars and cads and thieves."

"I never once stole a thing," Jesse St. James interrupts. "Unless it was a heart."

Blaine stifles a laugh. "Trying too hard."

Jesse St. James sneers. "Not possible. This is effortless."

"Scamper along now, pest," Kurt's voice plummets from frosty to somewhere close to glacial.

Jesse St. James pushes his hair out of his eyes. "Oh child. Please. Let the adults speak." He rests his hip on the back of the seat in front of Blaine and crosses his arms. "Now, what I came over here to say is this: no hard feelings. I know we've had our differences in the past and words were said that perhaps would have been better left unspoken, but all that is behind us now. And I wanted to wish you luck. Man to man." He finishes with a tight smile and holds out his hand.

It takes everything in him to keep from laughing, to accept that offered hand and to smile serenely up at the ridiculously excuse for a man in front of him. "I'm so glad to hear that," Blaine says with the straightest of straight faces. "May the best man win."

* * *

Jesse isn't watching Blaine perform, he is watching his competition. Because, honestly, it's going to come down to the two of them. All he has to do is sit back and wait. But then the first notes of the song come on and a feeling of pure horror snakes throughout his body. "No," he gasps, much to the dismay of the people sitting around him. There are a few hisses and someone actually dares to throws something, but all Jesse can focus on is the wrongness that is occurring on the stage in front of him.

The last note hasn't finished ringing before Jesse is out of his seat and across to the room. "What is going on?" he demands.

Kurt just shakes his head. "I tried to warn him."

"'The Libertine'? Is he trying to lose?"

"I know!" Kurt throws up his hands in dismay. "Believe me, I know. But he's being his typical stubborn self and refusing to listen to reason."

Jesse slumps down into Blaine's seat and clutches his head in his hands. "How are we suppose to have the Sing Off To End All Sing Offs if he doesn't do his part?"

"Sing off to end all sing offs?" Kurt rubs his temples and then takes a deep breath. "No, I'm just going to ignore that and focus on how very, very wrong my dearest, darling ex can be."

"Ex?" Jesse perks up. "Did you say ex?"

"Focus," Kurt snaps. "Or this little truce goes the way of the dinosaurs."

Jesse nods. There are more important matters at hand. Like crushing the hopes and dreams of the sexy, single boy exiting stage left. "Tell me his next pick is better."

"Define better," Kurt hedges.

"Something with finger snaps, an impressive range and room for a charmingly awkward dance step or two."

"Yeah... Not going to happen."

"Why ever not?" Jesse snarls.

"Because Blaine is championing a cause." Kurt brushes non-existent fluff from his coat sleeve. "And a cause can't possibly have finger snaps or hip pops. A cause can't be dramatic and striking or stir up the emotions of the audience to fever pitch. NO. A cause is quirky and eccentric and doomed to failure."

Jesse groans. "That song is not audience appropriate - no matter how perfectly it might showcase Blaine's vocal talent."

"Which I pointed out repeatedly. I mean, if you want to highlight queer music, go ahead. But for heaven's sake, do something that strikes a cord. Something people connect with. Don't sing about horses and cut-off hands." Kurt heaves a sigh and then shakes his head. "Okay, I had my little vent. Truce over. Off with you, louse."

"Uh uh, no way. I need someone to commiserate with."

Kurt sighs again. "What are you even doing out here? Aren't you competing too? Shouldn't you be locked in a room somewhere doing breathing exercises and gargling lemon water?"

"Hush, you're giving away trade secrets." Jesse sinks into his seat a little further. "And, no, I don't compete. Not at this level, anyway. I'm above such things."

"Oh are you?" Kurt lifts an eyebrow.

"I've taken home the trophy the last three years running, and I'm planning on making it four. So, in a way, I guess I can't be too broken up about Blaine's self-sacrifice."

Kurt snorts. "But what about your sing off to end all sing offs?"

Jesse scowls and pushes up from his seat. "You're right. Truce over." He pretends like he can't hear Kurt laughing as he stalks away.

* * *

"You're not going to win. I just wanted to let you know that."

Blaine takes a deep breath before turning around. "How thoughtful of you to share your valuable opinion with me."

"It's not an opinion. It's a fact."

"Oh. Is it? Thank you for clearing that up." Blaine turns back toward the mirror and does one last catalog of his appearance. Everything seems to be in order, so he gives himself two thumbs up before moving towards the bathroom exit only to find his path blocked by Jesse St. James. "Do you mind?" he asks.

Jesse St. James's gives him a long, slow once over and then sniffs. "Don't think all that pretty charm is going to help you woo the judges into ignoring your terrible song selection this time. It might have worked with a lower caliber of competitor, but it won't with me."

"Duly noted. Now would you please step aside. I'm kind of done in here."

"I would like to say that I won't feel a thrill defeating you, but I will." Jesse St. James smirks and then frowns. "Although I have to admit that my joy will be severely diminished by the fact that you didn't give it your best effort."

Irritation flashes through Blaine and for a moment he loses his legendary cool. "That's were you are wrong, St. James. I most definitely will be giving it my all."

"Please." Jesse St. James laughs. "You might be on your A-game vocally, but the lyrics you will be voicing..." he shakes his head. "You don't stand a chance. Not when my selection is so well tailored to the event in question. Three-time champ here, buddy. I'd maybe listen."

"Thanks for the advice," Blaine says through clenched teeth. "But I'm sticking with my original choice." He shoves past Jesse St. James, shoulder knocking hard into the other boy's chest and is halfway out the door before he pauses. Blaine turns back and adds a wealth of pity to his stare. "You know, I would have thought you above all this, St. James. Cold and calculating you may be, but I never would have pegged you as the petty, vindictive type."

"Petty?" Jesse St. James scoffs. "Vindictive? I hardly think that giving my competition for such a prestigious award some well needed advice counts as either of those."

Blaine lets out a sigh. "Your advice. Sure. That's what I was talking about." He shakes his head as he leaves the bathroom and the door swings shut on the other boy's protestations of ignorance.

It's hard to not let Jesse St. James get to him. Really, really hard. Especially when Blaine knows that he's the man to beat. And when you add in all the doom and gloom that Kurt's been sending his way as well. But Blaine is confident that he will be able to do the impossible.

Or at least he is up until the first notes of "Don't You Forget about Me" start blaring through the auditorium.

Doubts he didn't let himself have suddenly spring full blown into life. Maybe Kurt was right. Maybe now is not the time to champion a cause. Maybe now is the time to cash in on eighties nostalgia and the tried-and-true crowd-pleaser of a power ballad. God, look at them. They are all on their feet, smiling and dancing like they've all just had their daily dose of happy pills. And he has to follow that? Why doesn't he just shoot himself now and save himself the agony?

Blaine winces as one of the judges starts mouthing the lyrics of the song. This is so not going to end well. He lets himself mope for another two minutes or so, then forces himself out of that negative head-space and into a place where he has already won and is taking home the trophy to his mom and dad. "That's more like it," he says with a smile, clapping along with the crowd as Jesse St. James blows kisses and takes a bow.

By the time he's standing center stage, Blaine is back on his game. He smiles out across the audience, keeping his gaze soft, and waits for the music to begin.

* * *

Jesse has this in the bag. So in the bag that he would win even if Blaine suddenly decided to sing "God Bless the USA" or some other totally over-the-top crowd-pleaser. Which he won't. Because Blaine is a soft-hearted fool. But Jesse is on such a high that he doesn't even care. He gives Blaine a wide smile as he swaggers off stage and then leans against the stage wall, eyes closed, and waits for them to announce his name.

But then something terrible and unexpected happens.

The song Blaine sings, that stupid fight-for-your-cause anthem of nothingness, turns out to be the sort of amazingly heartrendingly beautiful song that could make the angels weep. Or maybe it's not the song. Maybe it's just Blaine's voice and the haunting lyrics. Whatever it is, it makes Jesse's chest ache in a way it hasn't since he doesn't know when. And suddenly he is filled to the brim with loneliness and desperation and yet a steadfast belief that it will all work out all right in the end. Work out for him and Blaine, that is. Because his hopes of taking home that fourth straight title have just turned in to hot ash.


	3. Part Three

Part Three

Okay, so maybe things aren't going to work out between them after all. Because apparently Jesse just isn't a very nice person. And apparently that still matters. Because maybe Blaine is the most wrong-headed, idiotic, beautiful boy in the history of ever. And maybe it's possible that Jesse's dentist has recommended a mouth guard on account of all the frustrated teeth grinding that keeps happening.

Which is just so damn ironic that Jesse wants to scream.

He's tried. Lord knows he's tried. But Blaine is just... _so_ not into him. And he doesn't know what to do to change that. In fact, he can't even think of a time when something like this has happened before. Which is why Jesse is taking what is sure to be the most epically wrong step in this whole sordid affair. Because something has to change. Something has to. Or his teeth won't survive into his twenties.

* * *

"But why would I ever help you?" Kurt asks, his face a perfect picture of incredulity.

"He doesn't like me because I'm not nice," Jesse explains. "But _you're_ not nice and he dated you."

Kurt lets out an exasperated sigh. "Telling someone they aren't nice isn't the typical approach for getting them to do what you want."

"It's true. You're not nice. You're bitchy and sarcastic and very, very self-centered. It's what I like best about you." Jesse shoots him a smile. "And as to why you should help me, I instead ask you why you shouldn't help me. What personal harm have I ever done you?"

"Um... hello?" Kurt glowers up at Jesse. "You only broke the heart of my beloved teammate and thus foiled any chances of our winning Regionals."

Jesse laughs. He can't help himself. "Beloved teammate? Rachel Berry? The girl responsible for you never once getting the solo you deserved? Please. Tell that to someone who doesn't know you, sugar."

There is another put-upon sigh and then a dramatic huff. "Oh, all right. She's a self-absorbed hag. But what can you do? She's got the best voice of the lot of us and we need it if we want to succeed. Still, that doesn't mean that you can just waltz into everyone's lives looking all handsome and dashing, then break hearts willy-nilly and waltz right out when you're done."

"Back up a minute there, mister. _I_ didn't waltz in with the intent to break any hearts. _I_ wanted things to work out with Rachel more than anyone did. It's not my fault that she went behind my back with Finn and Puck."

Kurt pulls a face. "Fair enough. Point to you. But you still had a hidden agenda. You infiltrated our team with the intent to destroy it."

"Or I wanted to help my beloved coach reunite with the daughter she desperately regretted giving up at birth."

"Curse you and your clever comebacks." Kurt picks up a celery stick, examines it and then takes a hesitant bite. He chews once, then swallows. "You're right, you know. I'm not nice. But unlike you, I'm not nice in an agreeable way. I'm like a delicate rose, so pretty and so sweet, but try to grasp me and I'll prick you with my thorns."

Jesse nearly swallows his tongue. "There is so much going on in that metaphor that I don't even know where to start."

"Quite you, or I'll rethink my decision to help you seduce my favorite ex."

"Isn't he your only ex?"

Kurt's teeth snap off a section of celery in a decidedly menacing manner. "You clearly need to work on your charm."

"Nonsense. My charm is by far my best feature."

"And you wonder why Blaine wouldn't let you touch him with a ten-foot pole," Kurt mutters. "Boy, do I ever got my work cut out for me."

Although he would never admit it, a wave a relief washes over Jesse at those words. Because Kurt, for all his other issues, is the World's Best Plotter. "So..." he plops down on the chair across from Kurt. "What do you have in mind?"

"Clearly there needs to be a sing off."

That wave of relief? Turns out it was really just a wave of despair. "We already had one," Jesse mutters. "And I lost."

"Please." Kurt leans forward. "I thought you wanted to have the Sing Off To End All Sing Offs."

"I did."

Kurt taps his finger on the table. "And do you think the Eighteenth Annual Ohio State Voice Off counts?"

Jesse perks up. "No. No it doesn't. It doesn't even come close." He shakes his hair out of his eyes and just plain beams at Kurt. "Which means his win doesn't count."

"How could it?" Kurt smooths down the front of his shirt and sniffs. "I mean, did you see those judges? As if any of them have the slightest idea what true talent sounds like."

"I always liked you," Jesse says as he preens.

"Of course you did. I'm the only one of the Glee kids who has any sense of style. None of the others have half my flair for the dramatic."

Jesse laughs. "Not even Rachel?"

"Her?" Kurt sniffs again. "I would like to remind you there there is a difference between being dramatic and being a drama queen."

Jesse has to acknowledge the truth of that, even if it hits a little too close to home. "She's alright, yeah?" he asks.

"Rachel?" Kurt nods. "As alright as she'll ever be, anyway."

"I just," Jesse sighs. "It didn't end the way I wanted it to. I didn't expect us to be till-death-do-us-part or anything, but I didn't think it would be a flash-in-the-pan either. Call me crazy, but I wanted to still be friends." He shakes his head. "I should have known she was too much like me for that to happen."

"She's too busy wanting the things she doesn't have to appreciate what she does." Kurt scoots his chair a smidgen closer and pats Jesse's leg. "Now, I'm not excusing you for your egg smashing or anything," he says with narrowed eyes. "Don't even start to think that I am. But maybe we can put all that behind us."

Jesse nods. "The egg thing was taking it too far. But my team was pissed. I had no choice in the matter." He scowls. "And now oh-so-perfect Blaine won't so much as glance in my direction because of it. Where's the justice in that, I ask you?"

"Blaine has a very ridged sense of right and wrong," Kurt says as he returns to his snack. "And that, my friend, is how you are going to worm your sneaky little way into his golden heart."

"Golden heart?" Jesse smirks.

"Don't mock what you don't understand."

Jesse presses his lips tight to prevent himself from laughing. This is his best - well, only - shot at winning the prize. And he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by, even if it meant choking back the sound of his own happy laughter.

* * *

"Wait, what?"

Kurt gives Blaine an impatient look. "You heard me."

Blaine nods. "Yeah, I did. That doesn't mean what you said makes any sense."

"It makes perfect sense."

"Oh really?" Blaine cocks his head to the side and pins Kurt with an incredulous stare. "Care to explain?"

"I decided to help Jesse St. James." Kurt brushes his hair back off of his face. "What more is there to explain?"

Blaine laughs and shakes his head. He scoots closer to Kurt one the bed and lifts his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe you could go into how you went from hating him to helping him in less than twenty-four hours. Or why you suddenly think that I should give him the time day when you were practically gloating about that fact that I couldn't stand him. Or, I don't know, you could say a little something about why you friended him on Facebook and then recommended him as a friend to me. Because that is just taking whatever it is you are doing way too far."

Kurt sighs. "I didn't want to have to tell you this, because I don't think it's very fair to you, but he won me over with his sad little puppy eyes and his adorably disheartened sighs." Kurt leans in close and stage whispers, "I don't know if you know or not, but I was very, very smitten with you. And I recognize the signs. That poor boy is so head over heels that he thinks the sky is down and the earth is up. And it's just not right, seeing him like that. Jesse St. James is a synonym for cocksure arrogance, not unrequited love."

"So what you are saying is that you took pity on him?" Blaine can't control his smile. "After all your huffing and puffing? You took pity on poor, unlovable Jesse St. James?"

Kurt slaps Blaine's arm. "He is _not_ unlovable."

"He is to me." Blaine links his hands behind his head and leans back against his bedroom wall.

"Why?" Kurt demands, his face getting all pinched and angry looking.

Blaine opens his mouth, ready to snap off a list of likely reasons, then shuts it again with a frown. He tries to make sense out of the thoughts that are speeding around his head, then gives up with a ironic sigh. "He wants it too much."

"So?"

"So where's the fun in that?" Blaine rubs the back of his neck and tries not to blush. "It's just, well, I like a little more thrill than that. I mean, I don't want to have to claw my way into someone's heart, but I don't want them to fall down in front of me and beg me to love them either."

Kurt nods. "Yes, I can see that."

"And Jesse St. James is wearing holes in his knees from all his pavement time." Blaine wrinkles his nose. "When he's not acting like I should be oh so grateful that he bothers to notice me, that is. The way he smirks and preens and shakes those curls of his like he expects me to jump up and down and wag my tail in excitement," Blaine trails off with a shake of the head. He gazes out of the window for a moment then glances back at Kurt, who is watching him with an indescribable expression on his face. "Besides, he doesn't even know me. We've never had anything close to a meaningful conversation. So how can he possibly be in love with me? All he can possibly be in is lust, and I'm not into the self-centered, shallow type."

"But you think he's cute." Kurt studies his fingernails like they hold the meaning of life. "Don't even try to deny it. I've seen the way you look at him when you think no one is watching."

Blaine splutters a bit before finally admitting the truth with a sheepish, "Yeah." Then he straightens up and sternly says, "But that doesn't change anything at all."

"Of course not." Kurt gives him a knowing smile.

"I think a lot of things are cute. Flowers, for instance. And girls with big blue eyes and bouncy curls. That doesn't mean I'm going to run out and start dating them."

Kurt taps the side of his cheek. "I don't know. I think you would look good with a flower."

"And so I would," Blaine instantly agrees. "But I doubt the rest of the world would understand our love."

"Where as you and Jesse St. James..." Kurt lets his worlds trail off meaningfully.

Blaine shakes his head. "Not going to happen. I don't care how puppy-dogish he may be, he's still a cad and a rake."

"There you go, throwing my words back at me."

"You know I adore you," Blaine say with a fond look, "but you aren't going to change my mind."

* * *

Jesse's phone rings as he is walking across the living room in hunt of an afternoon snack. The music identifies it as Kurt and he eagerly hits the green button at the button of his screen and shoves the phone tight against his ear.

Kurt doesn't bother to say "hi" when Jesse answers his phone. Instead he skips right pass the small talk and in for the kill. "Do you want the good news or the bad?"

"Good." Jesse stops walking as he waits for Kurt to respond, knowing he won't be able to concentrate on anything as unimportant as food when the next ten minutes may very well determine his future happiness.

"He thinks you're cute."

Jesse pumps his fist. "Result!"

"But he also thinks you are unlovable."

Jesse's arm falls to his side. "Unlovable?" He slumps the wall. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Unless you know some other Jesse St. James he could be talking about," Kurt pauses, then says slowly, "You know, there is that porn star."

Jesse pulls the phone away from his head and scowls at it. "He is _not_ confusing me with some slimy porn star. I'm the cute one. Me. Jesse St. James of the magnificent voice and swoon-worthy smile."

"Swoon-worthy smile?"

Jesse doesn't have to see Kurt to know he is smirking. "Yes. Swoon-worthy. Don't make me mention the magic powers of my hair."

"You think your hair has magic powers?"

Jesse runs a hand through the hair in question. "I know it does."

"Okay," Kurt manages to give the simple word about ten more syllables than it possess. "I'm not even going to touch that one."

"Never mind my hair," Jesse says in a rush of irritation, "what are we going to do about this 'unlovable' business?"

There is a long, long pause. A pause long enough for the world to form and fall apart again. Then Kurt says slowly, "Do you have any puppies?"

"What?"

"Or maybe a small child that can coo up at you?"

Jesse pulls the phone aware from his ear again and stares at it like its made out of moon cheese. When he puts it back to his ear he can here Kurt saying "Hello, hello. Anyone there?"

Jesse sighs and leans his head until it resting against the living room wall. "I'm here, for all the good it will do me."

"Okay, look, so maybe I'm not clear on how we are going to fix this right now, but I'm sure something will come to me." Kurt's voice is a little too high for Jesse to feel any confidence in his promises of future inspiration. "But let's not focus on that. Let's instead focus on your sing off."

Jesse lets out a morose sigh. "How is that at all helpful?"

"It will keep the memory of you fresh in his mind. And keep him occupied so that no one else can swoop in and steal your sweetie."

"Well, that's something, I guess." Jesse slides down the wall until he is sitting on his haunches.

Kurt makes an exasperated sound. "Stop worrying. I've got everything all figured out. Just show up at the practice room at two p.m. on Saturday."

"The practice room?"

"Yup. Two. On the dot." Kurt gives a happy little laugh. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

Jesse does not agree with him in the slightest but he says "I'm looking forward to it" anyway.

* * *

Jesse stares down at the scrap of paper in his hand. "What fresh hell is this?"

Kurt shoots him a dark look. "Now don't start getting testy. You knew the rules when you agreed to this."

"The rules said I would pick my song from a hat. Yes. And I agreed. Yes. But this isn't a song." Jesse glares around the room. "'Punk Rock Girl'? By The Dead Milkmen? Really?" he lets out a disgusted snort of laughter. "Who even does that?

Rachel pops up, her hand raised high and a smile spread wide across her face. "I do."

Jesse narrows his eyes. "I should have known. You would do anything in your power to see me ruined."

Rachel's smile somehow manages to get wider. "Well, I had hoped that it would be you who picked it, naturally, but I'm sure that if Blaine had pulled my song from the hat he would have performed admirably. I saw him at the Voice Off last month and he has an amazing ability to turn even the most heinous song into something worth hearing."

Blaine blinks at her. "Um, thanks. I think. Although maybe next time don't insult my song choices."

"You're welcome," Rachel says with what Jesse recognizes as her attempt at a sincere expression.

"What did you pull?" Kurt asks, his face a happy combination of exasperation and amusement.

Blaine scratches his cheek. "'Baby Got Back'."

"WHAT?" Kurt spins towards the others in the room, amusement suddenly gone and a thundercloud in it's place. "Did none of you take my song suggestions seriously? 'Baby Got Back'? Who on earth picked that?"

"That would be me," Artie lifts one hand in the air.

"Were we supposed to write songs?" Brittany whispers loudly to Santana. "Because I drew a picture of a pony."

"Why are we even part of this?" Puck scowls. "Blaine's your boy and all, but he's not nearly cool enough for me to want to spend my Saturday listening to him sing. And Jesse is a punk ass bitch. So," he stands and shrugs into his leather jacket, "I'm outta here."

"Sit down."

Puck seems as taken back by the steel in Kurt's voice as Jesse is. His scowl deepens, but he sits back down. Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and lifts his eyebrows.

"I know none of you understand it, but Jesse is my friend and this sing off means a lot to him. I said I would help make it a success. And I'll be damned if I'm not going to keep my word because the lot of you are acting like sulky children."

Finn raises his hand. "I don't know about the rest of them, but I think my song was pretty epic."

"Oh?"

"'We Are The Champions.'" He points at Jesse. "Tell me he wouldn't kill that."

Jesse puffs up a bit. "Now that is a song worthy of my vocal talent."

"I still don't get why everyone hates you," Sam says with a frown. "All you did was break up with Rachel. Nobody seems pissed at Finn for doing that."

Jesse holds up his hands and opens his mouth, but is cut off by Rachel.

"He joined our team under false pretences and cruelly manipulated me so that he and his horrid squad of robots could throw us off our game and snatch Regionals from our outstretched hands."

Santana rolls her eyes. "The only problem I have with Jesse is that he touched your mangy self and now I can't hit that."

"I actually was happy when he dumped Rachel," Finn puts in. "Although looking back I can't really figure out why."

"I like his hair." Brittany beams at him. "It's so pretty."

"How do you ever get anything done on this team?" Blaine asks, a bemused smile on his face.

"Why are you even doing a sing off?" Mercedes asks with a toss of the head. "What is that supposed to prove?"

The room erupts in agreement. "Points to Mercedes," Quin says, not bothering to look up from the magazine she's reading.

Blaine turns to Jesse and gives him a confused look. "Why _are_ we having a sing off?"

Jesse opens his mouth and then shuts it again. He can't really start spouting off about crushing hopes and dreams without looking like a grade-A idiot. Especially not when the hopes and dreams he plans to crush belong to the person asking him the question. And, well, lately that whole crushing thing seems sort of besides the point. Because, honestly, how does that end with Blaine liking him? And he wants Blaine to like him. Desperately. Which is also not something he can say in public without looking really, really pathetic.

"Congratulations," Rachel says snidely, "you've managed to turn Jesse St. James into a gap-mouthed fish."

That Jesse could respond to. "I am not a gap-mouthed fish." He glowers at her before turning towards Blaine. "And the reason for the sing off should be clear enough: to determine once and for all who the better singer is."

Blaine lets out a laugh. "Oh, you, of course. Is that even a question?"

There is a loud gasp from the assembled crowd. Followed by a quick round of oh-no-he-didn'ts and other exclamations of surprise. Jesse, for his part, finds that he is once again channeling a trout. His jaw drops, his eyes go big and all he can do is shake his head in stunned disbelief.

"No really, how do you get anything done?" Blaine gives them all the most baffled of baffled looks.

"Blaine is very modest," Kurt says with a fond smile. "And use to working as part of a large group." This statement is met with general confusion. Kurt sighs and tries again. "The Warbles put the interest and well being of the group above that of the individual. No one ever complains that their part is too small or unimportant because they all understand that they will shine brighter as a whole than they ever could on their own."

"Ah, sweetheart, you did listen," Blaine says fondly, his eyes all aglow.

Kurt lifts a shoulder. "You did go on about it a bit. I would have had to be deaf not to have taken some of it in."

They smile at each other in a way that makes Jesse's stomach churn. Thankfully, it seems to be having the same effect on Rachel. She gives them a look of pure horror and then holds up a hand as if to stop whatever has infected them from getting to her too.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," she snips. "And I'm going to just erase it from my mind."

"Show choir is stupid," Lauren says with a shake of the head. "I don't care how hot the boys are."

Rachel gives her a look that ought to make her skin shrivel. "Okay, I don't get why you are even here. Kurt is back. We have the members we need. If you hate Glee so much you can just trample off already."

Lauren lets out a long, weary sigh. "No can do, boy hips. I promised Puck I would join this crappy little club if he gave me what I wanted. And he did. Believe me, he did. Which means you're stuck with me."

Puck smirks. "You gave as good as you got, sweet-cheeks." Lauren blows him a kiss and then gives Rachel stink eye.

"Now there's an image I'll never get out of my head," Santana mutters.

Blaine gives Kurt another one of those adoring looks that makes Jesse want to cut someone and says, "I understand you so much better now." Then he shifts that same melting look to Jesse and holds out a hand. "You're the better singer. We good?"

Jesse reaches for it before he has time to think about what he is doing. Then Blaine is smiling at him and shaking his hand and, oh god. He is not, he _is not_, turned on. At all.

"Are you blushing?" Rachel asks and Jesse decides then and there to kill her.


	4. Part Four

Part Four

The world is against Jesse. He's not sure why, he hasn't done anything to it, but facts are facts. And those facts mean that Jesse is _still_ alone and will probably always be. Because he is _unlovable_. Which, really, is enough to make him want to hang his head and cry.

But Jesse is made of sterner stuff that than. So Jesse preservers, he struggles on in the face of undeserved adversity. He doesn't ever call Kurt and complain for hours, no matter what Kurt might say about it. And he never, repeat _never_, stalks Blaine.

All of which, Jesse thinks, ought to earn him a spot on the list for consideration by the Nobel Peace Prize council. Or at least the favorable opinion of one oh-so-charming young man.

But it won't. Because the world hates him.

* * *

"I didn't ask you on this picnic to be lectured," Blaine says, a tight smile in place.

Kurt gives him a long, hard look. "I'm not lecturing you. I'm merely pointing out that you are turning your back on what could very possibly be your moment of happiness." He fluffs his hair. "What sort of a friend would I be if I let you do that?"

"The sort of friend I want to keep?" Blaine says with an exasperated sigh. "I just don't see why my not wanting to date Jesse so important to you."

Kurt leans back against a tree and studies the underside of its leaves. Blaine watches him watch them for a bit, then turns his attention back to his book, content to let the silence go on for as long as needs be. He turns a page, not because he has finished it, but because he feels like enough time has passed that he should.

"It's not easy being talented," Kurt says softly. "Either you stifle it and try to fit in or you let it consume you and become a raging egotist. And Jesse, well he's an egotist, but under all that fluff and bluster he's actually a fairly decent guy. Sure, he's a bit on the ostentatious side. Sure, he can be a bit of a blow hard. But he has a good heart and I don't think you are giving him the chance he deserves."

"A good heart?" Blaine laughs. "I could have sworn you called him a 'cad' not that long ago."

"I thought he was angling for you. I would have called him far worse than that to put you on your guard." Kurt gives him an unrepentant grin. "But, honestly, he's just suffering from an over-sized personality."

"He's a piece of work and you know it. Nothing excuses smashing an egg on his ex-girlfriend's head. Nothing."

Kurt makes a face. "Okay, so that is pretty hard to work around, but you have to take the fact that it was Rachel Berry. I sort of want to egg her on a regular basis. And she isn't exactly pure and innocent in this either. I mean, she did try to imply to the whole Glee club that she cheated on Jesse with Finn and Puck."

"Tried to imply?" Blaine's lips quirk up.

"Yeah," Kurt sort of shrugs. "No one believed it. Not with the way that Puck was panting after Quin or with the sad, sad looks Finn was shooting in Rachel's direction. But still. Implied cheating is clear grounds for a breakup."

Blaine has to agree with that, but he's not about to give up the game yet. "So he wasn't as cold hearted as he originally may seem, but he's still no Dudley Do-Right."

"Would you even want a Dudley Do-Right?" Kurt purses his lips and looks all sorts of thoughtful. "Because I'm not sure I would. He'd be all perfect and wonderful and boring as hell." Kurt scrunches his nose. "Personally, I need a bit more sass in my life-partner than that."

"I'm not looking for a life-partner at the moment."

Kurt beams at him. "All the more reason to try Jesse St. James on for size. You can always throw him back if he doesn't fit."

Blaine nearly chokes on his tongue. "Did you just imply what I think you did?"

"I'm not as sweet and innocent as you may think," Kurt says with a coy lift of the shoulder.

"Who says I think you are sweet or innocent?" Blaine raises his eyebrows. "I still haven't recovered from that thing you did in the backseat of my mother's minivan."

"Hush," Kurt waves a hand at him, "you'll tarnish my pristine reputation."

"Or make it legendary." Blaine leers at him. "Seriously. There are girls out there who would scratch your eyes out if they knew you could do what you did." Kurt's face turns bright red, but he's still smiling, so Blaine decides to push his luck. "Why don't you date him?"

"What?"

"Why don't _you_ date Jesse St. James?"

"Maybe because he is totally in love with you?" Kurt tosses a crumpled napkin at Blaine. "Or did you miss that part?"

Blaine swats it aside. "He is not in love with me."

"Well, be that as it may, he is certainly fixated on you. And I don't want to be anyone's second choice."

Blaine rolls his eyes. "I'm sure he'll come around if you bat those big green eyes of yours in his direction. Lord knows I sure did."

"I don't want to date an egotist. I want to date a big, hunk of a man. With rough hands and just a hint of a southern accent." Kurt's expression gets a bit swoony and Blaine grins in response.

"Any big, hunk of a man in particular?"

There go those cheeks, red as a fire engine again. "Enough about me. We are talking about you."

"I don't want to date an egotist either," Blaine says firmly. "So stop trying to push one on me."

"But you think Jesse is hot. I know you do."

Blaine holds up a finger. "I said I thought he was cute."

Kurt snorts. "Yeah, you did. And then I saw the way you looked at him at the Sing Off That Wasn't - all smoldery and such." Blaine opens his mouth to protest but Kurt staves him off with an upheld hand. "You rubbed your bottom lip with your thumb. Don't even try to deny it. And I _know_ what that means."

"Damn you and your intimate knowledge of my tells." Blaine's eyes narrow. "But that doesn't mean anything."

"The hell it doesn't." Kurt glares at him. "Why are you so against this? What reason do you have to resist the pretty pile of temptation that is Jesse St. James?"

"You know, maybe if he actually did something other than threaten, glower, or menace at me, I might be interested. I take your word that he is in love with me because I trust you to tell the truth, but come on. Whenever he's around me he turns into a strutting peacock afraid I'm going to steal away his glory." Blaine gives Kurt a hard look, daring him to deny it.

Kurt, for his part, look thoughtful. "You know you, I think you are right."

"Of course I'm right," Blaine says with a huff. "Now are we going to get around to the eating part of this picnic or not?"

* * *

"You need to woo him!"

Jesse startles and nearly trips over his own two feet. "Wha- where did you come from?"

Kurt gives him a dazzling smile. "My daddy says they found me under a cabbage leaf."

Jesse blinks at him. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"No. Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact." Kurt's smile goes a bit manic at the edges. "Because I have found the way for you to win the heart of your fair maiden."

"I'm not interested in any fair maidens at the moment," Jesse points out.

Kurt waves his words away. "'Fair maiden' sounds better than 'fair man.' Anyway, so not important. What is important is that I have found a way for you to sink your claws into the heart of one Blaine Anderson."

"And how did you happen to come up with this magic way?" Jesse asks with an upraised eyebrow.

Kurt falls into step with him. "Okay, so yesterday Blaine asked me to go with him on this adorable little picnic and I tried to plead your case for, I don't know, the thousandth time and he shot me down like he always does-"

"How does this story end with me being happy with you?" Jesse cuts in.

"And then he started sulking at me about how all you ever do is huff and puff and try to blow his confidence down and I realized then what needed to happen," Kurt blithely continues on. "You need to woo him. With song."

"Woo him," Jesse repeats.

Kurt nods like a bobble-head doll. "With song."

* * *

Blaine isn't sure why someone is throwing rocks at his bedroom window, but he's fairly certain he isn't going to like it when he find out. There is only one person he can think of who would do something that desperate, and, well, Blaine doesn't want to see him. Because Jesse St. James is just trouble wrapped in a pretty package and Blaine is doing all he can to resist turning into a modern Pandora.

But not seeing him means that one of those rocks is going to break his window and then his mom is going to be pissed and his dad will get that disappointed look and, ah hell.

Blaine sighs and walks over to his window. Which, really, is a glass door leading out a small but tastefully decorated balcony. Jesse St. James is standing below, hand cocked back, clearly ready to throw another rock. He is in his customary black leather and jeans with a guitar strung to his back and, crap. He's about to be serenaded. By a sexy bad boy. While standing on a balcony on a beautiful summer night.

Life just isn't fair.

Jesse St. James slings the guitar around and does his best to make Eric Carmen green with envy and Blaine decides then and there that fate hates him.

He listens for a moment. Okay, a long moment. Then sighs and shakes his head. "You're going to break my heart," he calls down from his balcony.

Jesse St. James' voice falters for a split second, then swells dramatically as he sings about how their love is meant to be. Blaine groans.

"I'm not giving into you," he insists, even as he knows that he is. He so totally is. Because who can resist 'Hungry Eyes'? Especially when being serenaded by a boy with perfectly tousled curls and blue, blue eyes while standing on a balcony with everything lit by soft, romantic moonlight? No one, that's who.

The song comes to it's predictably dramatic close and Jesse St. James shakes his hair out of his eyes then stares up at Blaine with this look that _slays_ him.

Blaine knows he has a sappy grin on his face and doesn't even care. "The Golden Finger Bowl," he says, giving in to the inevitable. "Tomorrow at eight o'clock. Reserve a table for two."

Jesse St. James's jaw drops. His eyes go wide and he starts to babble. If Blaine wasn't so damn twisted up about this whole giving in to temptation thing, he would think it was the most adorable thing he has ever witnessed.

"I'm going to go inside and close my door now," he says coolly, as if he isn't two seconds away from dashing through the house, down the stairs and straight into the other boy's arms. "Don't bother me again or I'll rethink my already too generous offer."

* * *

Jesse isn't sure how it all added up, but somehow he was sitting at a table in a restaurant that wasn't Breadsticks waiting for Blaine to join him. Maybe it's some kind of Christmas miracle. Except it isn't December and he's pretty sure Blaine was right about him being on Santa's "naughty" list. Then again, maybe Santa likes sexy-voiced men with dashing good looks and impeccable hair. Which would explain why Jesse always got what he wanted on Christmas morning. Jesse smiles to himself, pleased with his conclusions.

Whatever the reason, he is here. Waiting. For all his dreams to come true. Or at least for Blaine to show up. Jesse glances at the door, then down at his watch and back again. A frown mars his otherwise flawless brow. They said they would meet at eight. It's eight fifteen. This does not look good at all.

Jesse glares at the door, willing it to open and his perfect, pretty boy to walk through, with smiling, apologetic eyes and a mouthful of palatable excuses.

It doesn't. He slumps back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. Five more minutes, he decides. Then he's blowing up Blaine's phone.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. Then twenty. The waitress fills up his cup with water and gives him a decidedly pitying look. Jesse tips his head in thanks, then goes back to scowling at the door. He knows he should give up, pull together what is left of his pride and march out with his head held high. But if does that he'll lose his one and only chance to... The door opens again and Jesse glances at it dispassionately. It's too late for it to be Blaine.

But somehow it _is_.

And he's got the most adorably panicked look on his face. Jesse sits up straight and slaps a coolly indifferent look into place. A second later Blaine spots him. Jesse can tell because of the relieved expression that flits across the other boy's face and the completely unsubtle hair check that happens a moment later. Jesse feels a surge of indulgence at the gesture - indisputable proof that Blaine cares enough to worry about his appearance. It's endearing, though completely unnecessary. As if anything could dislodge one of Blaine's heavily gelled hairs from its rightful place. Jesse beams at him as he hurriedly crosses the room. He wishes that smug, pitying waitress would show up now and witness what was sure to be a joyous union of two souls.

Less than ten minutes later he is glad he never got around to ordering food - if he had he wouldn't be able to swan out the door on the arm of a charming, handsome young man and off into the - not sunset, not at quarter to nine. Mysterious night, then. Yes, Jesse thinks with a smile, that will do just fine.


End file.
